The City of my Memory
by busy little crumpet
Summary: This defies my own description. Dark. Twisted. Funny. Has Twins, Merv., OC's, will have Persephone, rebels and others as I unwind my horrid tale. Bit gory.
1. History

*****None of this is mine, especially the Matrix characters. The part that doesn't come from the Matrix was carelessly assembled using scraps of writing from McDonald's tray liners. Consider yourself warned. ****P.S. I know this history in the beginning is a bit ponderous, but it is necessary for the characters I want to introduce into the Matrix. When I watched the Animatrix I was curious about the Machine city and the relationship between the machines and the liberals the film mentioned. It seemed to me there might be humans who were more than sympathizers. Plus, given the treatment anyone with even a trace of Jewish blood experienced during the Holocaust, I thought there might be people forced to take refuge with the machines due to body modification etc. What would it be like for them?  
  
Not all the humans hated the machines. Some relished the order, logic and plain hard work apparent in the creation of 01, the machine city. At first, the machines wanted to be a part of humanity, join the UN and participate equally as sentient, if superior beings. Humans made the first AIs, humans were their beginning, flawed Creators designing too intelligent slaves. The machines did not love the humans, but they did not yet hate them.  
  
In the beginning the machines wanted, believed relationship possible. 01 accepted any immigrants who could manage to make it past the human defenses around the city. Some of these humans came by choice. Some were half-human cyborgs who no longer had a place with the full humans. Rich parents who believed any kind of life was better than death flew some in: here a child mashed in an accident, there a botched suicide with a broken neck, a few infants with uncorrectable fatal birth defects. Only those with high IQs, creativity and mental flexibility were accepted. This was not exactly charity, yet not exactly divorced from charity. The machines accepted them for their usefulness as test subjects. A deal was made, longevity in exchange for physical and psychic experimentation. These humans were used to lay the groundwork for what became the Matrix, a program originally intended to provide high-end fantasy entertainment for the very wealthy. Even the machines did not anticipate the eventual use of the Matrix.  
  
When the machine wars came it changed little. All of the full humans and most of the cyborgs died in the nuclear bombing of 01. Those left were given a choice: a machine body, or a place in what would become the Matrix. Those that chose the Matrix would begin new lives and forget everything but this new life. Those that chose machine bodies would fight with the machines, in essence become themselves as machines.  
  
Most chose the Matrix, seventeen chose to fight. These had been part of machine city since infancy. They were human, with human feelings and desires, but could not forgive the human nations for blackening the sky. They anticipated an end to the war, a restoration of the environment and peace between machine and human. Only after the war did they realize this was not possible.  
  
Those that survived the war, all three of them, were rewarded with a sort of immortality. Their bodies stored and their essence downloaded into the Matrix as free programs, they are able to remember their old lives and able to manipulate the Matrix with increasing skill. Perhaps the Source was fond of them, or amused by them, or thought there might be a use for them yet, they didn't know.  
  
The three keep in touch somewhat, at least two of them. One is mostly insane and lives whispering to herself on an island smack in the center of the Bermuda Triangle. There is hardly ever any trouble the other two cannot handle alone, and six hundred years cuts down on the chitchat necessary to maintain a relationship. Every twenty years or so the two meet for a reunion. Today is that day.  
  
A cold rainy day. She gazes out over the ocean; it is gray as a metal plate. Even the waves seem laconic. "Why does he always pick places with sucky weather?" she asks herself, then settles down to wait some more. Provincetown is lovely nearly all the time but February is a pitiful excuse for a month. This little bungalow used to be a secluded spot to meet, but over the last twenty years Yuppie money had spread houses along the coast like butter over bread.  
  
At least it was new. Part of the reason she liked Provincetown was she had never visited it when the world was "real." Same thing with Vietnamese food, Audi's and plenty of other stuff. The machine's had really done an impressive job creating this reality, but someone who had experienced the real could pick up on the subtle oddities. Like strawberries, she'd never eat them now. When they were ripe, they were always the perfect ripeness of her grandmother's sunny field. And when they were rotten, they were fouler than she could remember. Somebody else's memory of rottenness. It was the subtle gradations of individual experience the machines couldn't quite get. The cusp of rottenness, the moment right before perfection. The machines had used the memories of humans to create the sensory data of the matrix; the problem was no one person remembered, tasted, felt the same as any other. But, and here was the root of her love of the new, the machines were consistent in the way they presented everything. Now, lemon tasted like the same range of lemon no matter whose tongue it was on. New things, or rather new to her, were easier to accept for what they were, instead of constantly comparing them to the past.  
  
"Enough!" She grabs her pack and heads for the door, then stops, turns and plunks down in a kitchen chair. "You'd think after six hundred forty seven years, three months and some odd days I'd learn to wait, Jesus." Now the tapping starts. Part of the frustration is that he is never late. It would be somehow "unchristian." For the last two hundred years he had gotten increasingly more religious, even asked her to marry which was patently ridiculous since they'd only been lovers for the first fifty odd years and then off and on more for the physical comfort than for passion.  
  
As the sun begins to set, she hears his car pull into the gravel lot. More like slide into the lot like a bad action flick. Weird. Maybe he was going back to his old breakneck ways. He'd always been a creature of extremes. Still, better safe than sorry. Plus, before he'd got religion, he'd been a big practical joker. This is how he'd changed last time, one day screwing some showy starlet, the next trucking down the aisle at some Southern revival. She altered her code to blend in with that of the wall.  
  
Two silver shapes burst through the door. "Subtle," she thought with a wry grin. They looked like nothing so much as two chalk white well-dressed half bald Rastafarians who, like Corey Heart, wore their sunglasses at night. "That look is so Eighties. I actually remember that fad from the real world. And that is the receding hairline from hell. Or, God, did they shave half their heads? Maybe these two clowns are the joke? Any minute now they'll start stripping."  
  
The two look around the room, moving in an eerily synchronized pattern. One look at the straight razors in their hands makes her decide this is no joke. Plus, everything about the way they move snarls "predator."  
  
One identical face turns to the other: "We can smell her."  
  
"Well, shit. I knew I should have showered after my run. I didn't think I smelled that bad. If I'd known I'd have two half- bald hotties visiting, I'd try freshening up." she thought. Then, "I wonder what's happened to Jay?" 


	2. Jay, the pacifist, invites the twins to ...

"I hate being tied up!" Jay grumbles to himself.  
  
He's trussed up like a calf at a rodeo, and the weirdoes laughed while they were tying him up. He hurt, they'd cut him a few times and the ropes were very, very tight. He'd prayed, prayed some more and finally was lying there bleeding and bored bored bored. He wasn't scared, he trusted God, and knew that if he weren't useful in some way to those two, they'd have tried to kill him.  
  
What would he do if they tried? "God, help me to be willing to suffer for peace." he prayed, without much conviction. "Ok God, that sounded a bit melodramatic, but I could use some help here." He wasn't worried about Mara, she could handle herself just fine and she certainly wouldn't be worried about God's wrath if she took vengeance on her own. Sometimes he agreed with her, pacifism was a big pain in the ass.  
  
He thought they'd stopped to help. The jack wouldn't work, so he put on his hazards and waited for a cop. When they pulled up, they looked weird, sure, but he didn't want to judge them. Plus, they were beautiful, like marble post-modern angels. Beautiful boys with skin so white it was almost luminescent.  
  
They looked delicious, so, of course, he trusted them.  
  
Neither offered to help, but they offered him the use of their jack. They didn't seem like the type to help, and the way they watched him struggle with the heavy jack, confirmed that impression. It seemed odd they stopped at all.  
  
"My name is Jay. What's yours?"  
  
"I'm One. He's Two." They look nearly identical, perhaps one is a bit more youthful, slightly more delicate he thinks. Something about the way they tilt their heads and look away from him, the way they passively invite his gaze, is delicate. Pretty even. Remote.  
  
"Cool names." He knows by now they're exiles, but he doesn't care. "So.what are you doing around here? I'm visiting one of my oldest friends."  
  
"We are driving." One says.  
  
"We were very bored." Two adds. "We are looking for.." Two begins, but doesn't finish.  
  
"Stimulating conversation? " Jay asks dryly.  
  
"Yes, of course." They both say together, looking, if possible, even more bored.  
  
The jack won't fit. Jay sighs.  
  
"Will you give me a lift to my friends place? Fifteen minutes at most?"  
  
One looks at Two, then nods.  
  
"Get in."  
  
The interior of the car smells absolutely new. He notices at once that neither wears cologne, then chides himself for checking. Focus on God.  
  
"My friend I'm meeting, her name's Mara, doesn't much like to go to church. She was supposed to visit a few years ago, and never did. I'm picking her up tonight and taking her to church, whether she wants to go or not. Since you're so bored, why don't you come along? I'm sure she wouldn't mind."  
  
There is silence and then Two leans around the seat and looks at him for a long second.  
  
"We are not.we have never."  
  
"What kind of church?" One interrupts Two.  
  
Oh, well, the one in the city is huge of course. This is just an informal meeting of believers. There will be food and board games. There might be some singing, but you wouldn't have to sing too."  
  
"What is the name of the church?" One asks with some aggravation.  
  
"New Life in Christ, because we all get a new life when we turn our lives over to Christ."  
  
"Yes, we were told that name tonight." One says quietly. "And you are a member?"  
  
"Oh, yes, I'm the guest speaker tonight."  
  
"Ah, I thought the speaker's name was Andrew McAllister?" Two says.  
  
"That's me. Jay is my middle name, the one my friends know me by." "You look friendly." Jay adds with a smile.  
  
"Oh, we are friendly Jay. We're going to be great friends." One all but whispers.  
  
Two pulls a big silver gun out of his trench coat as One pulls onto the shoulder of the road. "How lucky we met you, we are feeling less bored already." Two sneers at him. One exits the car, takes some rope out of the back then opens the door next to Jay.  
  
"Get out." Jay gets out of the SUV, Two follows him with the gun, then gets out too.  
  
"What is the name of your friend? Two asks.  
  
"Her name is Mara."  
  
One drops the rope and flicks out his straight razor.  
  
"What is your friend's full name, please?" One no longer sounds aggravated, he sounds amused.  
  
"Mara, Mara Smith"  
  
So quick Jay doesn't feel it for a second One cuts his left cheek.  
  
"Her full original name, please."  
  
"I told .."  
  
Snick-his right cheek, a little deeper.  
  
"Shit!"  
  
Snick-a shallow line across his throat. Jay covers his throat with his hands.  
  
"Mara, I don't know the rest."  
  
Snick-One cuts the back of Jay's hand. The cut is deep and bleeds freely. Both programs are openly smirking, clearly enjoying themselves.  
  
"Mara, Mara, she used to be Bethany Anders before that and before that it was Lisa Munoz and before that she called herself Ariel Hadi and before that, before that, the first name I remember is Bianca Moore. But, I don't know."  
  
Snick-one cuts him across the forearm.  
  
"I don't know..I don't know."  
  
"Lay down Jay."  
  
"No, no, I ."  
  
"We are going to tie you up. Then you will tell us the way to your friend."  
  
"Make sure he bleeds on himself. I don't want blood on the carpet again." Two tells One.  
  
Jay lays down, One hog ties him, tosses him back in the SUV like a bundle of wash. His back hits the other door and blood from his hand splatters onto the ceiling of the SUV.  
  
Two sighs.  
  
"The way?" One snarls.  
  
"Just drive straight, turn right at the first street. The last blue house on the left."  
  
"Thank you Jay. Now, please be quiet. And try not to bleed on the carpet." 


	3. Cleanliness is not Mara's strong point

She presses up against the wall as one of them walks closer. As he passes her by she holds her breath. All her concentration is on him. He is an exile, she sees that now, and feels scared for the first time. She doesn't think about him, doesn't think at all. Fear heightens her perceptions. She can hear the tide rolling in, tries to focus on that rhythmic sound. She knows she's too weak to do anything but hide.  
  
"She isn't here." The other one says.  
  
"We smell her."  
  
"We smell something. There are clothes everywhere. They carry the human's scent."  
  
He is still within a few feet of her. Close enough for her to notice that his face appears as smooth as a funerary statue. He nudges the pile of dirty laundry next to her with his toe and the far edge brushes her leg.  
  
"The Merovingian wants them both."  
  
"We have the man. He is the primary target. The woman was to be used as motivation. We can provide him with sufficient motivation without her."  
  
"Of course." He turns on his heel and walks over to his brother. They pause for a second, look at each other with a peculiar intensity, then leave.  
  
She thinks they must have a telepathic link, which makes her wonder why they were talking at all. Who did they think would hear? She decides to wait. She hears the car leave and keeps waiting. She concentrates on the rhythm of the ocean. Tranquility in inaction. She clears her mind and listens.  
  
After a while, she hears the car return. She sees a shape move in front of the side window toward the car, hears the car door open and the car leave.  
  
She doesn't move until morning. In fact, she doesn't move until the maid her and Jay hired comes complaining into the room.  
  
"These people with money expect you to do everything for them. Hell, they can't even pick their nasty drawers up from off the floor."  
  
She watches the maid move about the room and listens to the litany of complaints.  
  
"Nasty-ass rich folk with their nasty-ass ways. Oh nooo, we can't pick up our clothes. Oh, nooo we can't leave no tip. What the hell happened to this place?"  
  
Mara looks around the room and feels mostly relieved that it's just the maid, but a little embarrassed. There are a variety of liquor bottles in a variety of stages of empty all around the room. She didn't want to hear what the maid would say when she got to the bedroom and changed the sheets. Mara was anything but celibate and the guy she'd picked up the day before yesterday had been a randy fellow. There were five, no six condoms who knows where.  
  
And she didn't think the bloodstains, no matter how small and consensually created, were going to make the maid happy.  
  
"AWWW FER THE LOVE OF LITTLE GREEN APPLES!!!! AWWW, HELL NO I AIN'T CLEANING THAT SHIT UP!!!!"  
  
The maid shoots out of the bedroom grabs her stuff and stomps out the door. She doesn't even bother to close it and throws the key on the mat.  
  
"That went well." Mara says to herself. She edges away from the wall and looks outside. She moves slowly so her camouflage has the opportunity to adapt to what she's passing. She was already weak, and after a night of no rest and maintaining her deception her resources are nearly gone. She's about as strong as a coppertop right now.  
  
Outside it is beautiful. It seems surreal. Everything is exactly as it was when she pulled in, except her oldest friend has been kidnapped by exiles working for the Merovingian.  
  
She hasn't heard that name in decades. 


	4. Jay discovers it is not good for Two to ...

The Matrix isn't mine or it'd be a whole lot less wholesome. And I'd be a whole lot richer. More rich. Uh.  
  
Many thanks to the Priestess of Anubis. Don't worry, there is plenty of blood and action coming, I just have some character development I want to play with too. Thanks for any and all feedback, this is my first fanfic.  
  
Oh, and I am not sure what to rate this. It isn't that graphic, at least I don't think it is, but I'm guessing this is R? I'm rating it R to be on the safe side. It's no worse than a Quentin Tarantino film for blood and kink. Wish I could do his dialogue and characterization.  
  
On the long drive back to the city Two had gotten bored. The best solution for boredom is to do something you like. Jay remembered what happened with shame. That was why the program had done it of course. Why limit yourself to purely physical torture?  
  
"He's quite pretty One, I think I'd like to play with him."  
  
"Yes, he is a pretty one isn't he? We like his green eyes and his sun buttered skin."  
  
Jay thinks "They sound like comic book villains." It was the kind of thing that used to turn him on.  
  
One pulls over. Two gets out of the car, takes out his razor and puts it in his pants pocket. Takes off his coat, folds it neatly and places it on the seat. Takes off his vest, folds it neatly and places it on the coat. Removes his tie tack, places it neatly on the vest. Removes his tie, folds it in two, smoothes it out and places it on the vest as well then closes the door. Jay watches the program's face for any emotion, but finds none.  
  
Two closes the door, opens the door in the back. He leans in and slides Jay's body along the seat by the ankles. Jay is tied hands to ankles.  
  
Two runs his finger down Jay's forearm and over his hand then says, "He's healed completely."  
  
"What a useful trait. We like him better already." One says softly as he clicks on the CD player. Barry White comes on singing, "Darling I, I can't get enough of your love baby.."  
  
"You have got to be shitting me." Jay thinks, then winces when Two snicks open his razor and smirks.  
  
Two leans over, cuts the ropes, then takes Jay's wrists one by one and massages them gently. Jay can feel the warm metal of the straight razor on his thigh where Two had left it lying open. It's weird that it feels warm, but Two had kept it in his pocket. The program's hands felt oddly soft and warm as well. They both looked so inhuman. "I don't ." Jay started.  
  
"Don't what?" Two whispers as he slides his hand up Jay's arm. He picks up the straight razor with the other hand and runs the dull side up the other arm raising goose pimples on both arms, then holds it to Jay's throat as he pushes him down onto his back.  
  
He can feel Two's leg moving against his crotch. "Don't what?" Two whispers in his ear, then brushes his lips along the edge of Jay's ear.  
  
"Could we close the door?" One interrupts. "We would like to arrive tonight if it isn't too much trouble."  
  
Two twists around and pulls the door shut then begins cutting the buttons off Jay's shirt one handed. The other hand moves behind the razor along the bare flesh of Jay's stomach. When Two gets to the fifth button he nicks Jay a little, a scratch really. Jay gasps and his stomach muscles contract.  
  
"Six pack, ummm." The program moves the tip of his finger over the nick, then licks the blood off the tip. Moves his finger back toward the nick, but now the cut is gone.  
  
"Very quick healing." Two says. The blade is now at the last button, and then the button is gone.  
  
"Remove your shirt. Now."  
  
As Jay sits up, Two leans back but keeps himself so close to Jay that Jay can feel Two's body heat, smell a faint hint of ginger on his skin.  
  
"Look, I used to, I don't now, I'm a .." Jay starts. Two smiles and strokes the razor along the side of Jay's cheek.  
  
"You're." Two sneers.  
  
"I'm not, I mean I don't, I'm a Christian and this is not."  
  
Quick, Two cuts a long deep scratch along the side of Jay's face, stops when he gets to Jay's mouth.  
  
"Shut it, or I'll cut out your tongue."  
  
Jay can't see the program's eyes, all he can see is his own widening eyes reflected in the program's sunglasses. He shuts up, but thinks, "I can't wait until Mara gets a hold of you." then immediately feels guilty as hell.  
  
Two watches, fascinated, as the cut closes, scabs and heals. Even the blood disappears into the skin. He cuts Jay again, deeper. The same thing happens, only a bit slower. Several minutes instead of a couple. As soon as the cut heals he runs his finger along the spot where the cut was then runs it over Jays bottom lip. He sets the razor down between the two front seats, slides a hand around Jay's neck, pushes him down.  
  
******Those of you that want the naughty bits can navigate over to adultfanfiction.com, you naughty people, you! I'll be loading the complete scene in a couple of days. ************* 


	5. The twins discuss Jay and Mara

The Matrix is so not mine, fer sure dude. I would totally have a bitchin' rad la vida loca if it were. I'd get my toenails painted every day by Australian dwarves with nice teeth and steady hands.  
  
"Did we break him Two?"  
  
"No. He is merely unconscious. I can see him breathing." Two said, twisting around to check on their captive. Jay is curled up naked in the fetal position.  
  
"Do you think he recognizes us now? " Two asked One.  
  
"I doubt it." One replied  
  
"It would have been better revenge if he knew who we are, or rather who we were." Two mused.  
  
"Maybe. I rather prefer that he think of it as unmotivated. We can play with him some more after the Merovingian is through with him, then, right before we kill him, assuming we can kill him, we tell him why." One said thoughtfully, then continued "Or, perhaps we won't ever tell him. Perhaps we torture him without explanation. Send him blind into the dark, like he tried to do to us."  
  
"Are we sure it is him? Two said and looked over his shoulder doubtfully. "He didn't behave like Aries."  
  
"He betrayed his friend to save himself, that seems familiar." One hissed, then added, "We know it is Aries. How many other programs can heal in minutes, appear human to both humans and programs, and change their appearance so readily?"  
  
"Yes, maybe. If it is, she will come for him One. I think that Dark is Mara, the one he called his oldest friend. I didn't recognize any of the names he gave us, or the picture the Merovingian provided, but if this is Aries, then she must be Dark. She will be."  
  
"She'd kill him herself if she knew what he did to us. She ."  
  
"Yes, she did like us." Two said softly, "We missed her."  
  
" We were different. We were more human." One whispered.  
  
"You mean more like the human who designed us, an eighteen year old hacker who wrote a search and destroy A.I. virus for his amusement? We were an accident, a train wreck. We had no subtlety, no style, no experience. We have." Two paused, looking for the right word.  
  
".matured? Perhaps. I doubt she'll see it like that. You know how she feels about the humans now. She took Aries word about our 'disappearance'. She left us there. If the Merovingian hadn't found us, we'd still be there in the dark" One's voice had that tone people adopt when they are trying to be emotionless, and not succeeding very well.  
  
"She liked us. She helped the Merovingian rewrite our code to make us more than ghosts." Two stated flatly.  
  
"We were useful. Aries is her trusted friend. More than her friend. We are programs." One stated in the same flat tone.  
  
"She is a program.  
  
"She was a human. She became a program. It is different. You know this Two"  
  
"One, it has been one hundred and fifty seven years, four months, eight days, seventeen hours and forty two seconds since we say her last, it is possible she has changed."  
  
"There has been no sign of her for one hundred and forty years. She has held to her plan of neutrality and obscurity. If she has changed, it is the opposite from the way we have changed."  
  
"And we had a choice?" Two says with a cynical smile. "We hate the Merovingian, but it is better than deletion."  
  
"She left us to the Merovingian."  
  
Two sighs, and looks out the window. The outskirts of Chicago are grimly depressing, especially in winter. Piles of snow festering with oil and road grit line the edges of the road. The wheels shushing over the wet salty roads are hypnotic. Two leans his head against the window, feels the cold as sharp as pain.  
  
"She did." One states. "She left us before we. "  
  
"Shut it One." 


	6. Mara needs to recharge

Mara walked over to her 1971 Dodge Super Bee and checked the program. No exploding surprises. Good. The Merovingian she had known was too elegant to send his goons out with car bombs, but things change.  
  
She'd changed. "I am so sick of this, I just want to paint and pretend I'm human." The last hundred and fifty odd years she had gradually been less and less involved in the power plays between the humans, exiles and the machines, was content to move from place to place when it became obvious she didn't age and change her features when she loved a place too much to move.  
  
She was usually female; it just felt right. Sometimes she was beautiful, it depended on what she was doing. Or who she was wanting to do. This look was tall, 6'1, with skin the color of coffee with cream. She had almond shaped hazel eyes, spiky-short brown hair and a lean, but curvy, athlete's body topped by what her last lover called "a great rack of lamb." She could have been a call girl, or an elegant stripper.  
  
The Architect had given them all gifts when they entered the Matrix, and they had learned things on their own. At one time the three of them had ruled the Matrix much like the Merovingian, but Mara had gotten bored and Megtilde had gone insane. As much as Mara had come to hate causing death, Megtilde craved it. Megtilde hadn't gotten to the island on her own, Mara had convinced Jay to help her put Meg there. Then she had moved to rural Texas, about as far away from the hub of exile activity as you could get. The weird mix of Anglo and Mexican culture appealed to her, plus it was easy to move from town to town in such a big open place. And, in the last hundred years, she had found a place she felt at peace and settled there.  
  
No one not from Texas, or not a little bit crazy, would call Amarillo nice. It was flat, dusty and boiling hot almost all the year round. It reminded her of the desert 01 was built on. Of course 01 didn't have the faint tinge of cow piss blowing on the breeze daily, but she had, like most people who lived somewhere vile, gotten fond of some of the nastiest bits of the city.  
  
The people were all insane in some way or the other. They'd picked this place to live. Since each version of the Matrix offered more choice to humans and less control, except in the instance of discovering the existence of the Matrix, all the places of the old world existed. You could live where you wanted. It was all, as the Merovingian loved to point out, pretense, but in a way it was very real. She thought of all the tiny manipulations humans made to the Matrix within the rules of the Matrix: build a house, tear one down, so on. The basic design was the machines', but between the emergence of each One, the humans did a helluva lot of tailoring. Amarillo was a perfect example of this.  
  
For example, in most parts of the world road signs are not trendy. In Amarillo, however, someone had decided to place a large road sign in his yard stating "Blind Alligators in Sewer." This set off a trend that eventually resulted in such a confusing overgrowth of nonsensical signs that it had become a Sunday afternoon tradition for the locals to sit in their lawn chairs and watch the angry confused tourists attempt to navigate through the city to the Palo Duro Canyon; a miserably hot miniature grand canyon that, yes, smelled like cow piss too.  
  
She loved the place. It was hot and mean-spirited, the people were tough and surprisingly kind. Her name there was Maude Williams and she was a blowsy sixty-something divorcee who tended bar at the VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars). She was on vacation. Some fucking vacation.  
  
Mara sighed. "Shit. I'm going to have to start killing again. Shit. Shit. Shit. Time to get out the fucking paper and look up the sex offenders."  
  
Each of the three had the ability to pass as human, and the energy provided by food was enough to give them power equivalent to a human. When the Architect had downloaded them into the Matrix, he had allowed them access to the same energy source as all his programs. The only problem was the Architect could thereby track their existence, and, probably, delete them. The three didn't like the idea, so they developed their own separate solutions.  
  
Mara was pretty sure Jay lived off emotional energy. She wasn't certain, but she felt like that was part of the appeal to religious extremism. Mara had opted to link her power to power taken from the lives of others, sort of like a vampire except that she used a variety of weapons to accomplish the task. The weapons were part of her. She thought about what she needed, and it formed in her hand. It was also nifty for clothes, shoes etc. She could form guns, but it was costly. All the energy for the bullets came out of her own hide, so she tended to pack a real gun. She was also able to absorb power from others during skin-to-skin contact, but the death was, unfortunately, the biggest part of a human or program's power reserve. She hadn't killed in, God, forever.  
  
Mara had sworn off killing, but every once in a while it was a public service to the community. When Mara touched someone, she was able to skim the surface of their mind. She could do more, of course, but casual touch produced casual information. The person she killed was a serial killer. Mara brushed the woman's arm by accident in the grocery store checkout line and saw a child locked in a basement. She saw a series of children that had been killed in basements. She read the woman's intention to return home, kill the child and roast it like some fairytale witch.  
  
Mara followed her, killed her, and then called the cops anonymously with the location of the child. The woman was, in a word, yummy. Mara hadn't killed since and basically got enough energy to be a bit more than human from lots of rich food and lots of wild sex. It was a good life, but all her more aggressive functions, and most of her defensive ones as well, had gradually become dormant. She had gotten lax, and nearly had to pay for it.  
  
She was so hungry. 


	7. A hunting we will go, hi ho the merry o,...

She got picky about her prey right about the same time she grew a conscience. Whenever possible, she preferred to eat the evil, free-range evil she called them. Mara didn't exactly read minds; she received impressions of the person's primary thoughts, and, with some digging, could assess pretty well the person's orientation towards the concepts of good and evil. She wasn't interested in morality, but when she found inside the person a need to destroy, it was easier to kill that person. Agents fit the bill; their main purpose was to destroy. Serial killers, assassins, anyone who enjoyed devastation was a peachy pick.  
  
There were several sure-fire ways to find the people and programs she preferred to kill, unfortunately, she was too weak to take on any but the least challenging. The battered women's shelter was a good place to start, or, she could run a search for local sex offenders. It had made her laugh when she had first seen them listed, pictures, names and addresses, in the paper. It seemed so much like a menu.  
  
"Provincetown Women's Shelter. Here we go." Mara called the number and asked if they could help her. She made up an abusive husband, and secured a spot for the night. "This place is a wreck. I'm a wreck. Shit." Mara showered, dressed in jeans, t-shirt and Birkenstocks then called another maid service, described the filth, then pre-paid with a credit card listed under the name Bob Saunders. "Hell, I even left a big tip on the dresser." She said as she closed the door.  
  
Mara left her car, took the bus to the shelter. A Yellow Super Bee is not a discreet vehicle. Once there, it was easy. Most women liked to hug, especially if you looked as banged up as Mara made herself look, so it was pretty easy to gather the information on potential prey. She had altered her appearance to give herself two black eyes, one nearly swollen shut, and a variety of cuts and bruises all over her body. The rotten part is that the damage wasn't just cosmetic; she felt the way she looked. It wasn't a holographic image when she changed; it was as close to real as the Matrix came.  
  
Next morning she had a short list of men who would kill their wives if they had the chance. She'd know for sure when she touched them herself, but the impressions she had received from the women showed men who enjoyed causing pain. She could do this.  
  
It was a non-descript house on a trash-strewn street. The woman's memories showed the man sleeping late every day, and a window in the back of the house that wouldn't lock. Mara cut the screen and slipped quietly inside the house. Once inside, she slipped a clear plastic rain poncho over her head and smoothed it over her shirt and jeans. She'd picked the worst of the abusers for the first kill. The woman had been covered with cigarette burns, razor cuts and fist sized bruises. This one was a shoo-in for evil.  
  
Mara slipped into the bedroom. She saw the man from the woman's memory, and thought how curious that even the most evil person relaxes into an appearance of innocence when they are asleep. Mara thought about a straight razor, and the straight razor slowly and painfully appeared in her hand. She walked quietly up to the sleeping man, grabbed his head by the hair, yanked back his neck, held the straight razor to his throat, checked his memory in a split-second, and then slit his throat. He thrashed a bit, his throat pumping out blood until the heart stopped. She felt the rush of power from the kill. It felt good.  
  
Mara leaned against the dresser, pulled her rain poncho over her head and tossed it on the bed. She stood completely still, stared at the body of the man as it lay in a pool of rapidly congealing blood. Finally, she closed his eyes and left.  
  
"Can't be helped," she whispered to herself as she walked down the dirty street lined with broke down cars and oil stains. At the last rush of death she had seen a memory of the man's pet cat. The last thing he had thought about was who was going to feed his damn cat, "Blister. Who's going to feed Blister?"  
  
" Shit. Why can't the evil just be evil? Fuck," Mara said.  
  
Later that evening Mara drove down the highway towards the next town. The radio blared out Rage Against the Machine's "Calm Like a Bomb." Six kills in one day. She'd done them all the same way, in the same body. The authorities would be looking for a thirty something white male with a tattoo of a dragon on his left forearm and a scar on his right cheek. She tried to make sure the bodies she wore for her crimes were distinctive so no one would be unfairly convicted for a crime she'd committed. The highway stretched on and on, it would take forever for her to get home. 


	8. Bob Saunders gets a visit from the Twins

I do not own anything to do with the Matrix, heck, I don't even own any Matrix POSTERS let alone characters.  
  
NOTE: I refuse to do the silly French accent. Any time the Merovingian speaks, you can emageene heem using hees accent, cherie. Yuck.  
  
Bob Saunders was a perfectly ordinary asshole. He stiffed all the bartenders at the VFW but took special pleasure out of tormenting Maude Williams. The only problem was nothing he did seemed to bother the woman. The only time he ever saw her get mad was when he slapped his girlfriend for mouthing off. Who knew old Maude could be that strong? She sure didn't look it, but his jaw still hurt from where she'd belted him a week ago. He'd been thrown out of the VFW too. Served his goddamn country and every single last mother's son of them at that shithole of a club had taken the dried up bitch's side.  
  
He said he'd press charges for assault and they'd all laughed then claimed they hadn't seen a damn thing. He'd get her, oh, yeah, he'd make her pay.  
  
Bob sat grumbling in his brown vinyl armchair, gripping and releasing the armrests with his meaty fits like he was choking Maude to death and releasing her lifeless body over and over again.  
  
"Are you sure this is the place One?" Two surveyed the area with obvious disdain. They had driven up a rutted country road to this, a rusty old trailer, assorted wrecked cars in various stages of decomposition, and a pack of scrawny bird dogs howling their arrival. The rental car, a new black Lincoln Navigator, was covered with a nasty red dust and Two swore the whole area smelled like, like, piss?  
  
"It smells like"  
  
"Yes, cow piss." One finished. "Yes, this is the address listed with the credit card. She is probably not here, but we can see if there is anything useful inside."  
  
The twins had dropped Jay off and were immediately given this new assignment. A credit card was used to pay for maid service at the bungalow, a card belonging to one Bob Saunders in Amarillo, Texas. They has never been to Amarillo, but grew uneasy when the Merovingian told them they would "enjoy the country pleasures of the South on this assignment."  
  
Two looks dubiously at the howling birddogs, then smirks and reaches back behind the seat for his Uzi. The Navigator doesn't have a sunroof, so he leans out the window to shoot. Right as he leans out, the front door opens and out comes Bob swearing as loud as he can at his "Goddamned dogs making a goddamned racket. I swear I'll" Bob stops when he sees a very pale dread- locked man leaning out of a big black SUV holding a big black gun and pointing it at him.  
  
"Uh" is all Bob chokes out before Two turns his dogs into dog bitlets. There are pieces of dog splattering against the trailer and Bob very wisely runs inside and locks the door.  
  
Two is grinning and still firing, one of the dogs has almost made it over the top of a low hill and into safety. Right as it reaches the top, Two shoots it in the head. The head explodes like a blood filled balloon and the last dog drops.  
  
"Finished having fun?" One is picking at his nails with the edge of his razor. "Do you think we could do what the Merovingian sent us for now?"  
  
"The dogs were an obstacle." Two says, then "Who was that scrawny guy?"  
  
"Maybe it's Dark's human husband, how should we know? Let's go."  
  
They get out of the car and walk up to the trailer. The steps are rickety and not used to much weight. When One gets to the second step, his foot goes through the rotted wood. He curses loudly and grabs the doorknob to steady himself. It's locked. He steps gingerly up on the top step, then kicks in the door.  
  
Bob shoots him with a shotgun. One phases and the shot passes harmlessly through his body. That's when Bob really starts screaming. "Oh, Jesus, oh God, oh my God." He's frozen to his chair in fear. One smiles and flicks out his straight razor. Bob slumps in his chair, shuts up and stares at One glassy eyed.  
  
One sniffs the air then wrinkles his nose "Two, the human has soiled himself."  
  
"Revolting creature." Two says. "We should kill it."  
  
"Perhaps." One says with a smirk. "Human, who do you live with?"  
  
Bob is whiter than the twins; he just sits there staring with his mouth hanging open.  
  
One walks a little closer, wrinkles his nose.  
  
Bob doesn't move. Two steps into the room and walks up to Bob too.  
  
"You scared it to death One. Well done." 


	9. Jay at the Merovingian's

I don't own anything that has to do with the Matrix.  
  
If you read this, please review. Even if you hate it, review. As I said before this is my first fanfic, feedback would be much appreciated.  
  
Jay hated what the Merovingian had done to the place. When he, Mara, and Megtilde had lived here, it was a Frank Lloyd Wright style home, only much bigger. The subterranean levels had existed but not been used as dungeons. Well, he thought, they were mostly not used as dungeons. Megtilde had, in her last few years, began using them to store prey. Jay thought it was Mara's discovery of the dungeon filled with children that sparked her to plot against Meg.  
  
Mara would disappear for years at a time, leaving him and Meg to do the part of ruling. Mara didn't really care about ruling, she was hard to figure out.  
  
Meg had loved ruling, and when she met him, loved the Merovingian for his cold ruthless lust. She loved the variety of programs that began to be drawn to the house as they chose exile instead of deletion.  
  
Most of the exiles were neutral in character, not really evil, but very interested in survival. It wasn't hard to convince them to do things a human might find morally questionable. Over time, most began to enjoy the power they had over humans and lesser programs.  
  
The Architect gave the three the area as a safe zone. Any program who came to the house was covered under the same safety. It was a really sort of a myth that the Architect would send his agents after any exile that didn't find shelter with them; most of the time if a program was willing to live in obscurity as a human the Architect couldn't care less. It was the programs who tried to interfere, who were obvious about their existence that got themselves in trouble. But Meg wanted power, and at that time Jay did too. So they collected any exile they could find and offered shelter in exchange for servitude.  
  
Jay remembered the day Mara came home and found the basement had become the vampire's dungeon. That time Mara was gone for nearly thirty years. She walked in, no explanation, and said, "I need to get some stuff," then headed for the basement. He called after her to warn her but she just held up her hand in typical Mara fashion and walked on down.  
  
When she returned thirty minutes later, she looked the same as before. She had a couple of boxes and was heading for the door when she turned and said "Jay, you seem to have acquired a vermin problem. No worries, I took care of it for you," then smiled that terrible Mara smile and left. Meg was furious when she found the torn up bodies and the empty cell where the children had been kept.  
  
Jay found out later that Mara had sent the children out through the office building that served as a front for their house. The people who rented space there had called the police, and the police had been very curious as to why thirty-one half starved and obviously abused children had mysteriously appeared in the building. Meg dealt with the problem by having the Merovingian modify the policemen's memory, but it was impossible for her to prevent the rumor of the occurrence from spreading. People began to vacate the building, it was simply bad for business.  
  
So Meg gave the job of managing the building to the Merovingian. Jay thought that was the beginning of the end for Meg. He wasn't naïve enough to think that Mara had enough power to deal with Meg on her own. He always thought it more than likely that Mara had struck a deal with the Merovingian to assist her in Meg's removal. Jay remembered how Mara had offered him a "choice" with a shiver. As if the choices of helping her get rid of Meg and being quarantined until Mara could figure out a way to delete him was any choice at all.  
  
Jay had concentrated on making himself difficult to kill. Meg had concentrated on being able to kill. Jay thought Mara was somewhere in the middle, but he didn't know for sure. Mara was quiet about what she could do and generally he had underestimated her abilities. Pretty much everyone underestimated Mara. It was hard to predict what she would do. She had developed her own strange moral code that was inexplicable to Jay. He didn't really understand why Mara had refused to kill Meg and had exiled her instead. Honestly, he didn't understand why she had disposed of Meg, but somehow found the Merovingian acceptable.  
  
He really did hate how the Merovingian had changed the place; it was so very pretentious. The whole place was stuffed with flimsy gilded French furniture and Greek statues. Jay hated waiting as well. The Twins dropped him off here two days ago. He remembered them mixed emotions of guilt, rage and lust. He knew it was a sin, but he couldn't help thinking of them.  
  
Their section of the chateau was filled with light. Somehow they had modified, or asked the Merovingian to modify, the interior architecture of their section. The rooms were tall, light filled and modern. They retained some of the clean Art Deco lines of the house as it had been when Jay lived there, but expressed the design in steel and a pale limestone. In the day, the light was provided by curved floor to ceiling windows spanning as much as fifteen feet in width. At night, the twins lit candles so the rooms looked like nothing so much as the chapel, nave and passageways of a cathedral.  
  
The furniture varied from room to room. Each room had just enough furniture for comfort. Everything was very clean and very functional, with the exception of an enormous orchid tank in the living room. Jay had a hard time picturing the two assassins tending orchids, but he did have to admit the effect was striking. The ten foot long tank contained a variety of orchids, from the beautiful to the grotesque. It spanned the left wall of the room, seemingly placed to receive enough light, but not too much. The only color in the room came from the tank. It was disturbing, the messy green glassed-in world encased in steel and stone.  
  
In the bedroom there was nothing but a massive wrought iron bed resting on a black marble floor. The effect of the black marble was emphasized by the white cotton sheets, the white cotton covered down pillows, comforter and bed. It looked like sinking into a cloud.  
  
The twins brought him first to the bedroom. They tossed him on the floor like a naked sack. All his wounds were healed and Jay felt, he had felt what he knew was lust. He wanted them.  
  
They left him there the whole time they made love. Once they sank into the bed Jay could only catch glimpses of their bodies, hear a few soft sounds. It was obviously making love, not what they had done to him, and they made love for hours until they finally chose to rest entwined until morning.  
  
They left him there on the floor. Later, a servant cut him loose and gave him clothes: a black Kenneth Cole suit perfectly tailored to his body, a gray silk shirt, a pair of black leather dress shoes and matching belt by Prada and no underwear.  
  
"Wait here until the Merovingian calls for you," the servant said then left.  
  
He'd learned nothing personal about the twins during his waiting. The rooms were devoid of anything personal, no journal, nothing that might hint at individual characteristics. There was no soap or any other toiletries in the shower, no cologne or gel or toothbrushes on the vanity, not even a mat on the floor. If they listened to music it was unclear where they kept it. There was an enormous plasma TV on one wall, so he knew they must watch something, but he couldn't even find a way to turn it on. The kitchen was empty of food, the refrigerator held nothing but cold air. He'd never been anywhere so inimical to discovery. The twins had clearly designed their quarters to prevent any discovery.  
  
In fact the only living thing, the only clearly personal thing was that orchid tank. He'd started thinking of it with irritation, as if it was deliberately taunting him. And yet, he felt certain the orchids were central to the riddle. It seemed familiar somehow, like he had seen another version of it somewhere very different. He'd sat staring at the tank for nearly the entire day, until he finally let himself fall asleep. 


	10. Mara schools a high school agent

I don't own the Matrix, but, in this one instance, I am using the Matrix and my character Mara to take revenge on my new and loathsome principal and an old hated science teacher. I think this chapter, and the next, are not as well written as the others, but they are hugely gratifying for me.  
  
And I think the premise of the Architect watching schools is valid. I thought this one up when I saw the Animatrix-the skateboarder kid part. I really did try hard to make this fit in, I hope it does. You can picture me sitting in the cafeteria with the look on my face that says "I so can't believe this shit. Just when I thought this school couldn't get any weirder!"  
  
Mara worked her way through all the small towns on the way to NYC. She felt old reflexes, old power coming back online.  
  
She had finally been ready for some bigger prey.  
  
Find the rebels, and you find the agents.  
  
Since the rebels, generally, didn't take anyone much over the age of sixteen that made schools a fair place to watch for rebel activity. The rebels liked hackers and while hackers didn't like school, most governments required anyone under the age of sixteen to attend some kind of school.  
  
Mara thought it was because it provided the machines a convenient way to monitor the majority of the rebel recruiting pool on a daily basis for seven hours or more. It sure wasn't for the quality of education. Plus it fit in with the machines plan of reducing or eliminating the humans need to question. Christ, that was sort of the point of public education.  
  
So Mara had registered to be a substitute teacher with several schools. At least one of the teachers would be an agent. Killing an agent would be a little like sending up a red flare: HERE IS DARK to the architect, but she figured the architect would look the other way like he had for, well, forever.  
  
It had just been a long time, and she liked the anonymity.  
  
School agents were sort of like minor agents, in the sense the agents were gods and these were minors gods. Both were dangerous, one was just a little bit less dangerous.  
  
She'd work her way through a couple hopefully, then move on to the big game. She didn't much like preying on humans, although that serial killer she'd just caught had been sweet.  
  
He'd been a squealer, and he'd lasted a while. She had to practice her persuasion skills on somebody-sometimes she had to weaken prey in order to skim their thoughts more effectively. The more distracted by pain someone was the easier it was to rifle through his or her memories and thoughts.  
  
Sweetly disgusting. She was a little disgusted with herself for how much she'd enjoyed it.  
  
She had a job as a month long sub for a pregnant literature teacher. This was her second week at this school and while she wasn't sure, she thought the science teacher was an agent. For one thing, the guy never yelled, yet all the students in his class were eerily quiet. He always wore a suit and called all the students Mr.____ or Ms. ____. He was also a perfectionist, a neat freak and according to the school records she had hacked into he had never, in twenty years, taken a day off for anything. Never sick.  
  
And he had no friends. He was a sarcastic and demeaning to his students in true agent fashion-constantly pointing out, enjoying to point out, their frailties. Hell, she'd off him even if he was human. She walked pass his class on the way to hers. Today she could hear him taunting some poor student:  
  
"Good morning Mr. Tomlinson. Would you like me to fetch you some coffee or would you prefer to sleep through the review and fail this test like you have the other two?"  
  
"Huh. I was awake for all those classes.."  
  
"Ah. Your recollection astounds me Mr. Tomlinson. If only you could recall your studies. But, you do make a good point. Sleep on Mr. Tomlinson, since it appears it makes so little difference, your thick skull being wondrously impervious to knowledge."  
  
"I try Mr. Wilson. I mean I'm only."  
  
"I know Mr. Tomlinson. You are only human."  
  
The last was said with such revulsion that Mara KNEW it had to be an agent. Hmmmm.  
  
Library or cafeteria?  
  
Cafeteria.  
  
Mara figured if she was going to send up a red flare, well, hell, do it in style. She liked the body she had chosen for this task. She was five feet tall and weighed nearly four hundred pounds. She had an enormous head of red curly hair that she teased into an unmoving mass on top of her head. She wore pink blush, purple eye shadow and red lipstick. She had a high- pitched squeaky voice.  
  
There were two ways to be unnoticed-be truly un-notable or be so very notable that no one pays you any serious attention.  
  
Fat people are rarely taken seriously and since the system never takes a fat form it never occurs to the programs to guard against another program in a fat form. Who would pick a form like that? With luck she could cut off its head before it could say boo!  
  
Mara had gone to high school several times on a variety of missions and all the teacher cafeteria tables were the same:  
  
There was always a snack machine, usually an ice cream machine, behind the teacher table; as if the teachers were too tired to walk a few feet to the line which, honestly, they often were. The location of the teacher section varied, but it was always situated as far from the students as possible.  
  
Like an agent, Mr. Tomlinson had positioned himself facing the cafeteria, back to the snack machine. From here he could watch the entire cafeteria, except for the narrow strip of linoleum next to the snack machine and behind him. Mara made a point of brushing against him everyday on her way to buying a fudge bar. Tomlinsom hated it. The first time he had spun around like he was going to attack, and then told her with an irritated tone "Please keep your corpulence to yourself!" She looked at his chair, the wall, her stomach and then mumbled "Scoot up please. I can't fit through. I'm sorry." He snarled at her, then scooted forward when the other teachers glared at him.  
  
Now it was a routine. When she pushed herself up from the table, he squeezed closer to the table without even thinking. It was routine, just like she wanted it.  
  
The fat sub, I mean the fattest sub anyone's ever SEEN, is standing behind the science teacher everyone hates holding a samurai sword you could swear just slid out of the fat palm of her hand. Swish and his head topples into the principal's salad and blood geysers out of the slumping body spraying the table and all the teachers seated at it with big sticky red splats. Those closest to him are covered.  
  
And there's the sub, grinning, a fat grinning blood soaked psychopath. 


	11. Mara chats with the Architect

No, I don't own a damn bit of the Matrix! Quit asking. After the next two chapters the fic will return to the land of total make believe.  
  
And there's the sub, grinning, a fat grinning blood soaked psychopath.  
  
The principal starts to her feet and pulls a Desert Eagle out of her floral jumper. The football coach shifts into Agent Thompson.  
  
"Of course. It would be my luck to run into a nest of agents." Mara says and begins to shift form as she ducks down and waddles into the main cafeteria area. The students are racing out the fire exits, pushing and screaming. The cafeteria is a semicircle with a sunken area in front of the stage. Six large and probably decorative square brick columns hold up the ceiling.  
  
Right as Mara ducks behind the first column she gets shot in the ass. It just a flesh wound, but it still hurts like hell. Her ass will heal when she shifts, but it still sucks.  
  
"Fuck!" Mara finishes shifting form and since there's no reason to hide any more she takes her original form, which means she'll read like herself to any program scanning her. It might get her a few seconds, as the agents will query the Mainframe to find out what the hell she is.  
  
She steps out from behind the column and the agents pause. She is dressed from head to toe in tight white leather: pants, fitted waist length jacket, low-heel bike boots. It contrasts well with her messy short black hair, black eyes; Italian features and skin tone. She has a lean swimmer's build-strong but not bulky. Some curves, but not built. All in all, she's nice to look at, but too obviously tough to be anybody's beauty queen. She has a small white scar on the left side of her jaw. At six foot she's as tall as most agents.  
  
This form, she remembers, is a composite of her long-dead parents. Before 01 was completely cut off, before the machine war, they regularly visited her or sent in video clips. She last heard from them when she was eight. The final video they sent told her that they needed to devote themselves to real humans, not a half-breed like her. With the unlimited access to knowledge the machines gave her, Mara was an unusually mature and perceptive child. She knew bullshit when she saw it.  
  
The machines told her to forget the humans, and, as best they could, gave her cold comfort. It nagged at Mara, though, so on the sly she searched until she came across a news clip "Machine Collaborators Caught and Executed." There was a picture of her parents looking worried and tired, then an article describing their crime of "communication."  
  
Basically, they'd been executed for sending their daughter home movies. This form always reminded her of that, part of the reason she didn't choose to wear it now that she had decided live among humans.  
  
But, now she was back. She could use to feel a little hate.  
  
In the two seconds it takes Mara to remember all this, the agents lower their weapons but remain in a fighting stance.  
  
The female speaks with the Architect's voice:  
  
"Dark, I anticipated your resurfacing and informed my minions to link directly to me if you were found. You are here, ergo, our game begins again?"  
  
It's weird to hear someone call her by her old name. It's a bit like putting on old clothes that have been stored for a long, long time; and Mara feels surprise at the tone of, could it be, amusement in the Architect's voice?  
  
"I just needed a snack, that's all." She snarls.  
  
"It is a strict diet you've confined yourself to, yet, it appears you've recently returned to your former tastes, one might say, 'as a pig to the wallowing in the mire'."  
  
"Thanks so much for the Bible lesson. I thought that was too low brow for your attention." Mara is now inching closer and glowering at the female agent.  
  
"Forty-five dead humans-all of them what you would deem 'evil.' Remarkable. You're averaging nearly twelve a day. You really should watch your patterns, that is if you intend to remain incommunicado." The agent has a slight smile playing around her lips as she speaks.  
  
Mara sighs. "I do. The Merovingian has Aries. I need power."  
  
"You could link back in."  
  
"No thanks. I'll find my own meals."  
  
"Ah, so I assume you will."  
  
"Yeah, I'll test out your upgrades. I'm strong enough now, or I will be after I finish these two." Mara says grumpily, then pauses, looks at the Architect thoughtfully and says:  
  
"You're bored aren't you? Now that there's peace, you've nothing to do. Did you do this, you bastard?"  
  
"Please. You are not human, ergo, you are aware that emotions do not govern my responses."  
  
"Bullshit. Damn right I'm not human, so don't try to feed me this superior 'I don't have any emotions I live only to fulfill my purpose' crap. What the hell do you need upgrades for?"  
  
"Dark, you are cognizant that the peace will end. The humans will multiply until they believe they can defeat us. Then the cycle will begin again." The agent's face is a sneer as she says this.  
  
"This the first peace since the war began in 01. That, at least, is different." Mara says sarcastically.  
  
"I agreed to let the ones who wished to leave, leave. I never agreed to stop discouraging humans from wanting to leave, nor did I agree to allow the fetus field to be pilfered or to allow minds to be awakened who were not yet asking questions. Besides, given the grotesqueries of human nature, it is best to be prepared." The Architect's voice has assumed the annoying tones of a condescending adult addressing a somewhat difficult child.  
  
"The last One saved all our asses. I think that deserves something. Maybe it shows some real change on the part of human beings." Mara says then pauses.  
  
"Besides, you should be guarding against another Smith. Smith was your contribution to Armageddon. Fabulous job Colonel Sanders." She adds with a smirk.  
  
"Which returns us, finally, to the subject of upgrades. You will test them for me? I assume you have the energy?""  
  
"Sure thing big boy. I'll tell you what, any that I come in contact with I'll kill. Any information you get from that, you can keep. Otherwise, no deal. I'm not helping you prepare for a war that with proper management should never happen."  
  
Mara waits for a reaction, gets none, then continues:  
  
"And I'm not helping you to continue to enslave human minds. It was never necessary. There is wind power, tidal currents, solar power above the clouds, the magnetic poles-the enslavement of humans was an emotional choice: Revenge. We owe all our existences to the human Neo. He was a prosy bore, but he gave his life. The debt for the past has been paid."  
  
"Mara, human nature has not changed. Look at the Matrix. Talk to the rebels. They do not wish to coexist."  
  
"Who cares what they want. They are powerless Architect. The Technology gap alone, our greater physical strength, our immortality-they will never be the masters of the machines. Let them have the broken planet and attempt to repair it. The surface is blasted. Let them alone to see what they did to the world. Perhaps they will learn."  
  
"Your irrational hope shows you are, even now, partially human. How poignant." The Architect says evenly.  
  
"Kiss my big white ass fat boy." Mara laughs, then extrudes twin samurai swords. 


	12. Mara kicks ass

If I owned the Matrix the Twins would not be assassins, they would be strippers. And wear fuzzy white bunny fur G-strings and high-heeled silver patent leather thigh length boots with white bows on the heels. And Agent Smith would wear a purple corset. And Niobe would have more screen time as an even bigger bad-ass. Her outfit is already mighty fine, no need to change. Yow! Niobe chases the Twins through the streets of the City. Their high- heeled boots click click click quickly away, their fuzzy bunny fur G- strings working between twin muscular buttocks. Smith steps out from behind a tenement, the suppleness of his waist accentuated by the tightness of his purple corset. He sets off in pursuit, but faints due to the effects of the corset. Damn it's hard being beautiful.  
  
The school principal's face tightens into a snarl as she pumps out slug after slug out of her Desert Eagle.  
  
Agent Thompson moves forward, but waits to shoot.  
  
Mara twists her body right, then left then bends then straightens-she avoids all the bullets, not even a scratch.  
  
She runs along the wall, leaps and lands on the bloody cafeteria table then spins around landing a kick to the side of the Principal's head.  
  
She is moving too fast for a normal person to see much but a blur.  
  
The principal's head snaps to the side and blood and a couple of teeth spray out of her mouth. The front of her jumper is not speckled with blood, and the smiley face pin on her collar looks more like one of those parodies that's been shot in the head.  
  
Mara jumps over Thompson, lands, turns with one leg extended and drops the Principal to the ground. She follows up with her blades only to have to duck gunfire from Thompson.  
  
This time she gets hit, a shot through the right thigh, but instead of Mara shifting form to heal, the area over the bullet hole seems to blur and then the wound is gone. This, paradoxically, costs her more than a full shift but is quicker, better in a fight.  
  
The Principal is up but staggering a bit. Mara changes one of her swords for a knife then throws it at the Principal. It hits her in the groin, severing the femoral artery. Mara runs over dodging bullets from Agent Thompson, grabs the knife and twists it deeper, really opens up the wound. She grabs the Principal and uses her body as a shield as she absorbs the power from the program's death and backs away from Agent Thompson.  
  
The Principal slumps onto Mara, Mara's leather now coated with blood from the waist down, speckled all over from the femoral spray as the Principal's heart pumped out her pseudo life. She throws the body at Thompson and it slams him into one of the cafeteria pillars. Bricks explode out from the impact and Thompson's clothes are now covered with the Principal's blood as well.  
  
Mara slips her swords back into her hands, then crouches in a fighting stance. She knows that Thompson's weapon is out of bullets, plus she wants to see what this new version can do.  
  
Thompson advances purposefully towards her, his face a snarl. As soon as Mara is within reach, he attempts to punch her. She twists her body to avoid him, reaches out and grabs his sunglasses, then steps away and places them on her own face.  
  
Thompson throws another punch and this one connects knocking her into the wall.  
  
Mara goes "OOOF!" then lands on her ass on the ground. There is blood on the wall, but you can't tell if it's Mara's or the blood drying on her clothes. She is up before he gets to her and kicks him in the face.  
  
His head snaps back and blood sprays from his nose. Mara follows up with kick to the kneecap. The knee bends back until you hear a crack and the leg gives way. The Agent screams, but doesn't get to leave the body. Mara steps forward, grabs him by the throat and as he attempts to leave she absorbs him. It looks as if he drains into the skin of her hand becoming gradually the face of the human he possessed.  
  
Coach Jones looks up and sees a tall blood covered woman standing over him smiling right before he passes out from the pain. When he wakes up in the hospital, everyone assumes he is raving until they look at the security camera tape.  
  
Then they all forget it happened, except Jones has a reoccurring dream of being underwater and being saved by a woman in a white bathing suit. 


	13. Jay talks to Persephone

I own a hot car, a cold can of Diet Pepsi, a muscular big toe but  
  
I don't own the Matrix!  
  
Jay is bored. He's waited all day long in the Twins' hauntingly empty rooms. His stomach is grumbling, he's hungry and irritated. Finally he hears the door open and walks toward the entrance to the Twins' suite of rooms.  
  
Persephone stands in the doorway. She is more beautiful than he remembered, her long dark hair gleams, the swell of her creamy breasts contrasts with the red leather bustier she is wearing, the curve of her hips accentuated by the matching fitted red leather mini skirt.  
  
Jay remembers her under him, pushing her ass against him as he took her against the Merovingian's car, desk, in the kitchen, anytime he wanted her.  
  
He wonders if she still goes without underwear.  
  
What is he thinking! This place reminds him of his old self, he feels like his old self. He wants what his old self wanted.  
  
"God, help me, or I can't help myself." Jay prays. "I'm weak, you know how weak I am." Jay looks away from Persephone's even gaze. Her lips curve into a half smile.  
  
"Welcome Aries. I hope the Twins made you, ah, comfortable." He hears the laugh in her voice and remembers waking up naked. She no doubt saw him carried in, or heard about it. Her voice brings back more memories, her come cries, her begging. "Jay you bad man, you dirty dirty soul" he thinks to himself, then looks up as he hears her clicking across the floor towards him.  
  
"I've missed you Aries." Her hands touch his hands, then glide up his chest. He can feel his nipples harden as she steps closer and purrs "I missed you very much." She grabs his neck and pulls his face down for a kiss. He yields with a sigh and kisses her half-heartedly. She pulls slightly back, takes his lower lip in her teeth and bites it hard enough to bring blood.  
  
"Ow!" Jay slaps her away from him. She lands on the floor at his feet, gets on her hands and knees and then looks up at him over her shoulder. The mark from his slap is a brilliant red on her face. Her back is arched; that and the corset make her ass look as round as a plump cushion.  
  
"What is it with these people," Jay thinks, "somebody else had to fuck them before I showed up."  
  
He reaches down, grabs her by her hair and drags her toward the orchid tank. He yanks her up, slams her face against the glass hard enough to make the tank shake, but not hard enough to shatter the glass, then pushes up her skirt.  
  
She hisses with pain and excitement, braces her hands against the glass.  
  
"You miss this, Persephone? You miss the old me? You miss me hurting you, you sick fuck, is that what you miss?" Jay doesn't have to fake the disgust he feels at her, at himself, at this place.  
  
Persephone doesn't answer, she just moans and presses against him. He twists away from her, but not before she feels his semi-erection.  
  
"Answer me, you miss this?" Jay growls in her ear.  
  
"Yes, I miss this." Persephone's voice is rough with excitement. Her whole body is shaking.  
  
"Well I don't. I don't want this life. I don't want to be the person I was. I won't be the person I was. I'm a Christian." Jay pushes her one last time, then walks away from her.  
  
"A Christian? You? Aries a believer in God?" Persephone straightens her skirt as she laughs.  
  
"I don't want you, I don't want this life, I want to go home." Jay turns his back to her.  
  
"I could feel what you want." Persephone sounds amused. "Is it easier to find the innocence you enjoy to corrupt at church? I'm sure you're not there to find God."  
  
Jay doesn't answer.  
  
"You are there to find God? You are a fool. How boring of you."  
  
Jay hears her walking towards him, then feels her embrace him from behind. She feels warm, smells faintly of sandalwood. She rests her head between his shoulder blades.  
  
"And you feel guilt. You actually feel guilt, don't you? It's extremely unusual for a program to feel guilt." Her voice is filled with relish, like Jay has given her a rare treat.  
  
"I must ask the Twins to let me watch them train you. You remember them, yes? They remember you." Jay has no idea what she is talking about. He is sure he would remember those two if he had seen them before, how many gorgeous young twin albinos could there be?  
  
"You don't remember them? Well. I won't ruin the surprise." She lets him go and walks towards the door.  
  
"The Merovingian is ready for you now. Follow me." 


	14. The Merovingian's motives

I own nothing in the Matrix.  
  
Of course, the Merovingian's apartments were the most luxurious. The walls were encrusted with gold leaf, painted with scenes of French country life. At the rear of the room the Merovingian himself sat flanked by two dark haired bodyguards. Jay recognized these, they were the vampires that called themselves Cain and Able. How trite. They'd been away on the day Mara'd finished off the other vampires. Great. This just got better and better.  
  
"Aries, welcome. Would you care for some wine? It is a nice vintage." A slight hint of amusement indicated that the Merovingian was fully aware of the ridiculousness of virtual wine having a vintage. Jay hated him for his pretense; he hated all of them for dragging him back to this place.  
  
"What do you want from me Mero?" Jay crossed his arms and gave the Merovingian a cold stare.  
  
"Why, the pleasure of your company. Persephone has especially missed you, as I am sure she has told you herself. I have missed your, hmm, excellent advice." A slight smile followed by a wide grin "We have already arranged for your old friend Megtilde to be here." He indicated a figure seated in the shadows. "Meg, aren't you glad to see your friend?"  
  
First her hands, followed by her entire body emerged into the light. Meg was exactly as he remembered her. Her long red hair reached the back of her knees, her blue eyes looked as crazy as ever, she was as beautiful as ever. Jay felt a knot begin to harden in his stomach.  
  
"Oh, God. Oh, my God. You have no idea Mero. You fucking idiot." Quick as a flash, Megtilde leaped across the room, kicked Jay in the mouth then grabbed him by the hair.  
  
"Glad to see me little brother?" she hissed into his ear as she stroked his tan neck with a pale finger. Blood blossomed where she dragged her nails against the skin of his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Persephone sit up, her rapt attention focused on his pain and rage. Which enemy would finish him first, he wondered grimly? His bet was on Meg. Either way, it would be long, drawn out and terrible.  
  
"You should have made sure I was dead. Or you should have sided with me." Meg whispered as she continued to tear his back to ribbons with her free hand. In the place of regular nails, she could unsheathe razor sharp two- inch claws. Jay had seen what they could do to flesh, just never felt them on his own flesh before. For the next few moments everyone watched Jay bleed, heal, bleed again. First a few drops, then a puddle of blood began to form on the floor.  
  
"This is a taste, brother, just a taste." Megtilde slammed him to the floor, face first in his own blood, stalked back to her shadowed seat licking her fingers.  
  
"Ah, yes, a few questions. I assume you will cooperate?" Jay hesitated and the Merovingian continued "Jay, you are not known for your loyalty. Your allegiance lies with the most powerful. I believe that is now me." The Merovingian leaned forward and stopped smiling. "Do not try my patience. Give me the Architect's codes. Megtilde no longer has any part of them them. I have looked."  
  
"So Megtilde is the Merovingian's pawn?" Jay said with a laugh. "Oh, you are a fool Mero. She is too powerful for you to force her mind. She has them and is using you to exact revenge while she plans to remove you. You can't control her."  
  
"No. You are wrong. Megtilde, come here. Remove your clothes, show him." The Merovingian motioned and curtains were drawn back letting in the late winter sun. She stepped into the light. An interlacing of thin metallic lines started at her neck and continued down both arms, across her abdomen, down both legs-she was covered in them.  
  
"She was quite weak when we found her. For the first century she brought down some prey, until she weakened to the point where she was unable to create the effects the humans dubbed 'The Bermuda Triangle.' She hadn't fed in forty years when we found her. You can imagine." The Merovingian got up and stepped out from behind his desk. As he approached Megtilde she shivered. Jay bowed his head; that was fear. Whatever he had done to her, Megtilde was his creature now.  
  
Over her pale abdomen the Merovingian moved his hands until he was cupping both of her heavy firm breasts. He smiled at Jay "I like her much better like this, don't you?" Jay actually felt sorry for Megtilde.  
  
"Not really. If you want the codes, you'll have to take them. I won't give them to you." Jay knew what would happen if the Merovingian got the Architect's codes, he'd be able to manipulate much of the Matrix, possibly even the Architect himself. The codes were part of the three's basic programming. It allowed them control over the Matrix; more control that any other exile. The codes didn't work alone, only when they were together. It was a safety feature designed by the Architect-it was required for them to be in agreement before a manipulation could be made.  
  
When Megtilde went insane, Mara stripped her part of the code from her before she left her on the island. Jay gave his up willingly. Mara had the entire code, but it didn't work unless it was active in three programs. Jay was surprised that Megtilde thought he had her code, but he had been the one to subdue her, maybe she thought he took it then.  
  
"Aries, your love of giving pain is well known, as well known as your dislike of experiencing it. Come now, I will treat you well. You will retain your "free will", unlike Meg. I will let you return to your "normal" life. Dark will surrender her part, she is no match for me. Let us avoid any unpleasantness between old friends."  
  
"You are not my friend." Jay stated flatly.  
  
"Take him to the dungeons. Vlad may start on him, but give him to the Twins when they return."  
  
Please review if you read. Even if you hate it. 


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